Growing Up Granger
by HermanTumbleweed
Summary: Six year old Harry Potter can't take any more beatings and not being fed. He takes a chance opportunity to run away and is picked up by a very kind family. H/Hr/plus Rated for graphic scenes of abuse, & violence. Ch1 edited & slightly revised for clarity


Growing Up Granger

by

Herman Tumbleweed

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction written for pleasure only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights of the rightful owners of the original characters and situations. No money is being made from this, not that I make much anyway. That being said, whenever Ms Rowling gets ready to sign over the rights to the HP series to me, I'll gladly and humbly accept.

**A/N:** This is a plot bunny that would not go away after I started reading Meteoricshipyards' Luna's Hubby. I was also inspired to get on with it by Intromit's Fate's Debt, and Musing's of Apathy's Family Inseparable. All three of those take entirely different tacks, as does this. I'd also like to mention a similar fic to this one, by brigrove, called The Harmony Bond. He told me he started that one because I hadn't gotten on with this one. Oops. I'm working on chapter two as of Jan 29, '09, which is when I reloaded this edited chapter. Thanks for reading.

**Chapter One: Executive Decisions**

Harry Potter was scared, even though he was wonderfully far from where he had started out that morning. While serving breakfast, he'd spilled coffee on his Uncle Vernon's lap. It didn't matter that the junior bully, Dudley, had tripped him as he went to set the cup in front of the senior bully, Vernon, only that he'd spilled the hot coffee. He had seen the pain on the huge man's face for a moment, but then rage took over and the countenance turned almost purple. The no-neck lump had grabbed Harry with one hand, and pulled his belt off with the other while dragging the small boy into the hallway. He'd then savaged the six year old with the belt for what seemed like an eternity to the child, all the while roaring horrid things at the boy. Then he'd heedlessly thrown him roughly into the cupboard under the stairs.

The massive man's tirade ended with a bellowed, "NO FOOD FOR A WEEK, BOY, THAT SHOULD TEACH YOU, YOU FILTHY FREAK" Finally, and none to soon for Harry, he'd slammed the cupboard door and stomped upstairs. A worried sounding Aunt Petunia followed right behind, and a few minutes later a snickering Dudders stomped his way up, paused to give a few extra stomps on the stairs over the Harry's bed, and then snickered some more as he moved on.

Harry had lain, whimpering very quietly, on the thin mattress covering the metal springs of his cot while trying unsuccessfully to hold back tears. After a minute or two, he had noticed the door was not locked, even standing ajar about an inch. With no idea in his head of where to go, he just knew he could not take another beating like that; his tummy already hurt because he'd just gone three days without eating. Scrambling painfully from his cot, he'd grabbed his thin, oversized coat and the few precious treasures he owned, then eased quietly out from his 'bedroom'. With the cupboard door silently closed and locked, he then had moved quickly and quietly out to the kitchen. With only a little trepidation over the delay, he'd paused there long enough to grab some bread, a lump of cheese, an apple, and a couple of carrots from the fridge. Noticing some breakfast still on the table that Dudley had actually not wolfed down, he also snatched up a few rashers of bacon. With everything but the apple wrapped in a couple of paper serviettes, he'd stuffed it all in his pockets, along with a bottle of water.

After darting out the back door, still very quietly, and around the house, the small, black haired boy had taken off running. It was still early enough on a Sunday morning, that none of the neighbours were out, so he was able to scurry unnoticed from the house. He ran to the end of Privet Dr and across the several streets and alleys to Magnolia Road, which led to the outskirts of Little Whinging. Harry didn't know it, but he was then going toward London. He just remembered, from a few times in the Dursley's car, that going up past the play park would get him far away from the house he could no longer think of as his home.

After reaching the outskirts of town, he'd slowed and then spent the day walking, carefully nibbling the food he'd nicked and making it last as long as possible. Now it was getting late in the afternoon and he'd no idea where he would spend the night. His food and water were gone and he didn't know where he was, just that he was miles from that house and didn't want to go back there. Earlier, he'd taken the light jacket off as the day warmed, but was now thinking of putting it back on with the temperature dropping as the sun sank toward the horizon.

Just then, a car passed Harry moving much slower than the rest had all day. He was surprised when it pulled to the shoulder and stopped a ways beyond him, but he kept walking. He didn't recognize the car, and didn't want to get in trouble for bothering the people, so he gave it a wide berth by going out of his way to skirt it by several yards. He was really scared now, because the people in the car had been looking at him and seemed to be arguing. He was afraid they'd make him get in the car and then take him back to that house, and that was the last place he wanted to be. He didn't care if he had to sleep in the road ditch tonight and go without food for days, he was not going back there.

When he was perhaps ten yards beyond the car, he heard a voice call out, apparently to him. He kept walking, but looked back over his shoulder at the nicely dressed and very pretty woman who was standing beside the open car door. After he'd gone a few more paces, Harry stopped and turned to look at her and the car. It was nicer than Uncle Vernon's, though he didn't know what kind it was. He thought he'd seen some like it around Little Whinging being driven by some of the more affluent residents. It had a funny looking hood ornament which was a circle with three lines from the centre out to the edges.

The lady standing alongside it looked nice, kind of like Mrs Figg, only a lot younger. She had a worried, but kindly expression, as if something was troubling her but she didn't want to scare someone. Harry finally twigged that the someone she seemed worried about was him. That was strange, since no one ever worried about the shabby nephew of the Dursleys. Well, a couple of the teachers at school had, a little, but they soon seemed to stop doing that.

* * *

Alan and Maggie Granger, and their daughter Hermione, were returning home from visiting friends in Greater Whinging, happily chatting about the fun day they'd had, when Hermione all but shouted, "Dad, Mum, look a little boy."

Alan took his foot off the accelerator and immediately applied the brakes lightly, starting to pull over to the emergency lane. As they passed the boy walking along the verge, they all looked carefully at him. He was wearing clothes several sizes too big, seemed to be limping some, and his back was slightly hunched as if he was in pain or very tired, or both. Alan didn't understand why he'd not seen the lad until Hermione's near shout had called his attention to him.

Hermione pleaded, "Please stop**,** Daddy; we can't leave him out here like this. He looks like he needs help."

Alan pulled the car gently to a stop as Maggie said, "She's right, dear. He doesn't look well, and there is something not right about him. I can't put a finger on it, but he looks like..."

"…like he's been beaten and has run away from home," Hermione interrupted.

Both parents turned to stare at their bushy haired genius daughter with looks of extreme surprise, both thinking, _"I know she's right, but how did she know? For that matter, how do I know she knows?"_

As they all looked back at the boy who was now approaching the car, but going off the shoulder to go way round, Alan finally said with a smile, "I don't know about you two. It's bad enough that you take in every stray animal you come across, even that owl last year, and now you want to help a stray boy? What am I ever to do?" He'd said this in a teasing tone, but with some concern as well.

"Alan Granger," his wife said sternly, but with a grin tickling the corners of her lips, "just because we like to help out strays doesn't make us bad people you know."

Hermione added, "Come on, Daddy, you know you like helping as much as we do. What could it hurt? He looks really nice, but he also looks... I don't know, kind of sad and like he's beaten down." As she said this, the boy was making his wide swing past the car and her eyes tracked him, carefully scrutinizing every detail.

Maggie said then, "Dear, we can't leave him out here for some pervert to pick up and abuse. The least we can do is get him into the custody of Child Welfare."

"You're right, though I imagine there's more to this story than meets the eye," he replied.

"You're right, Daddy. I can feel it, like I could feel when Grandmum was really sick that time."

The two adults looked meaningfully at each other. They didn't understand the odd things their brilliant daughter often did, let along the feelings she sometimes had, just that they had learned to listen to those "feelings". When she'd insisted frantically, two years ago, that Mum Granger was ill, they had tried to call, and, not getting an answer, had driven to his parents' home. His father was still at work, and they had found Mum in the back garden suffering from a heart attack. The family all considered it a miracle they'd shown up when they did, but Alan and Maggie never let on why they had.

By now, the little boy who by size looked to be about five or six, but whose very thin face looked much older, was several yards beyond the car and angling back to the shoulder. With a look of confirmation from her husband Maggie didn't hesitate any longer, but stepped from the car and called out. She hoped she wouldn't frighten him. "Forgive me, young man, but can we give you a lift somewhere?"

After he stopped a few paces later and turned to face her, she said, "I'm Maggie Granger, the gentleman driving is my husband Alan Granger, we're both dentists, and the young lady in the back seat is our daughter, Hermione. We don't want to harm you, just to help if you will allow us to."

Harry didn't know what to do. It was still early summer, the third week of June, and often quite cool at night. He didn't want to sleep outdoors, but he wasn't sure he could trust anyone not to take or send him back to that house. He would no longer call it home, and couldn't even think the name of those brutal things he'd left behind without getting angry. He took a tentative step toward the car and the lady who looked so nice and so concerned about him. Then he took another step and another, and soon was at the front of the car where, he stopped again.

The little girl, who looked to be about a year older than he, got out then and walked slowly up to him. She held out her hand and said, "Hi, I'm Hermione, who are you?"

"I… I'm Harry" he replied taking her soft, warm hand briefly. Unaccustomed as he was to being touched by others, he let go almost immediately, although for some strange reason he didn't really want to and that surprised him. But he did keep staring at the pretty girl with bushy hair and warm brown eyes. Her front teeth seemed a bit large, but not overly so, when she smiled slightly as if unsure what to do next, but seemingly not wanting him to be scared. He looked at her mother, then at her father still behind the wheel. They all had nice, friendly smiles, and it was very encouraging.

After his eyes returned to her, she said courteously, "It's very nice to meet you," then asked just as politely, "would you like to come with us? We can take you where you are going, if you like. It's not safe for kids to be out on the road like this, and besides, you look tired. I'll bet you're hungry too…" she trailed off looking sheepish. "I'm sorry, but sometimes I just prattle on like that. We really would like to help you. And my parents are very nice people."

His glance wandered over the family again, and once more came back to her soft gaze. If there was one thing Harry had learned best in his short life, it was how to tell the difference between people whom he could and could not trust. Although trust came hard to him after living with the Dursleys, he felt these were people he could trust easily and completely, at least for now.

After mulling it over for a minute or more, and looking from one to the other of them several times, he came to a decision and nodded, saying, "I'd like that. Thank you, I've been walking all day."

She reached out to take Harry's hand and led him to the back door of the nice car, opened it and slid in first not letting go of his hand until they were in the car. He was surprised at letting her hold his hand; no one had ever done so, that he could recall. It felt nice; she felt nice, and that was something he could not explain to himself. To his surprise, he was disappointed when she let go her grip, but she smiled when he looked at her, and that made it okay. He liked her smile a lot; it made him want to smile as well.

Unable to help it, Harry winced slightly as he settled his injured back against the seat, but fortunately no one seemed to notice. His jacket, where it was tied around his waist, caused most of that pain and was uncomfortable pressing against his lower back. To remove it he had to lean forward so he didn't wince again as the skin pulled. Still, it hurt a lot and he figured he'd gained more scars. For sure, he didn't want these nice people to know how shamed he felt about all of that. Carefully he settled back against the seat again after folding his jacket and laying it by his feet.

Once the two children were settled and belted in, Mrs Granger closed the rear door and got in herself. She turned to him then, and asked in a very kindly voice, "Did you say your name is Harry?"

"Yes ma'am, I'm Harry Potter. Thank you for giving me a lift." He nodded to Mr Granger, who was turned to look at him as well.

"Well, Harry Potter," the woman said, smiling, "we could hardly leave a handsome young man walking along the road, now could we?" She ignored his blush, and offered her hand. "As I said, I'm Maggie Granger, and this other handsome fellow is my husband Alan Granger."

Harry shook hands and asked, "Should I call you Mr and Mrs Granger, then."

The man smiled, as did the lady, and he replied in a kindly voice, "That would be quite acceptable, Harry. Thank you for being so courteous."

Harry blushed some, but nodded in reply. Next to him Hermione smiled a dazzling bright smile at him and he relaxed, though he was sure he was blushing even more now. Harry thought she was very pretty, especially when she smiled. Her large front teeth didn't take away from how pretty she was to him in the least.

Mr Granger asked then, ignoring the boy's blush, "So, Harry, where can we drop you? We're on our way to our home in Kensington, which, if you don't know, is near London, but we would be happy to take you wherever you want to go."

Harry thought hard for a moment, and didn't really know what to say. He closed his eyes and tried to come up with a reasonable excuse for being out on the road like he had been, but nothing came to mind.

"I… erm… well, I wasn't going… er anywhere special. I just… I don't want to go back." Tears came to his eyes, "Please don't…" he sobbed once, "please don't make me… go… go back… there… they hate me, and my uncle beat me…" _"Damn,"_ he thought, as tears leaked out despite his trying to hold them in, _"I didn't mean to say that. If I get Uncle Vernon in trouble, I'll really get it."_

Mr Granger seemed to mostly ignore that though, when he said, "I think you should stay with us tonight then, Harry. If, in the morning, you want to be on your way it's up to you. Wouldn't want you sleeping outdoors, now would we? Looks like it's going to be a chilly night."

The man was about half way through his short speech before Harry opened his eyes to look up at him. He then turned to Mrs Granger, as she added, "We have three extra bedrooms, Harry, so it's no bother at all. Besides, I think Hermione would love the company of someone close to her own age for an evening. What do you say?"

They both had spoken kindly and seemed very sincere in their wish for him to stay, though he noticed they shared a momentary deep look between them. He looked at Hermione, who smiled warmly again and nodded several times in encouragement as he wiped his face with the sleeve of his left arm.

"O… okay, if you're sure it won't be a bother. I can do some chores for you in payment. I'm good at cleaning and working in the yard."

Hermione's smile dimmed a bit at that, and the two adults once more exchanged a look. After a long pause Mrs Granger said, "Well, we can talk about that later, Harry." To her husband she added, "Why don't we go on, dear?"

As they both turned to face forward, he nodded, put the car in gear, and pulled back into traffic, which wasn't all that heavy, being it was a Sunday evening.

As they drove along the A3, Mr Granger asked, "Harry, how is it that you managed to walk along a major roadway and didn't get picked up by the constables or a road safety patrol?"

"I've no idea, sir," he answered, while he was surreptitiously staring at the pretty girl next to him. "They went past several times, but didn't seem to pay me any mind at all. I thought sure one of them would stop and take me back, but they never did."

Hermione could tell Harry was looking at her, and smiled because she already liked the strange boy. Unabashed, she settled back in her seat, took his hand, and at his somewhat startled look, quietly said, "I want you to be comfortable, Harry, and it seemed to calm you before when I held your hand. Is that okay?"

"Er, yeah, I guess so. I kinda like it." He blushed a little again, and gave her a tentative smile.

"I like you already," she said as her smile widened, "which seems kind of odd. I don't normally make friends very easily, but you seem like someone… I don't know, someone I know already… like we've been friends forever."

Harry seemed to mull that over for a few moments, before he smiled more fully and said, "I think I feel the same way. It is odd, but it's like we… what you said; like I've known you forever. It's kinda odd, but nice too. I like your parents," he whispered, "'cause they seem really nice, as well."

"That's good," her voice lowered even further, so she was almost whispering as she leaned closer, "maybe you can stay more than just the night. I'd like it if you did. I think we should get to know each other. Would that be okay with you?"

"I… I think… I'd like that, Hermione. I think I'd like to be some place where people are nice and don't yell and scream at me, and… and hit me."

She saw another tear roll down his face, held even more tightly to his hand, and pulled them a little closer together. Changing the subject, she asked in a normal voice, "So how old are you, Harry? I'm seven, but I'll be eight in September."

"Oh, I'll be seven next month, July thirty-first. When's your birthday?"

"The nineteenth, which means that I'm usually in school on my birthday, but that's okay, I like school; do you?"

"Yeah, it's okay. I never did very well, 'cause I'd get in trouble at home if I did better than my cousin, who is really stupid. So, I'd just do what I had to and…" _"Damn, there I go again. If they send me back, I'm gonna be in really big trouble with Uncle Vernon. If he finds out, I probably won't eat for a month_."

"And what, Harry?" She lowered her voice again, and in a conspiratorial tone added, "Why don't you tell me later, when we get home."

"Okay," he whispered, "but I'm not supposed to talk about it."

"Why ever not… oh, I think I see. I'll promise not to tell any of your secrets, okay? But if I think someone else should know I'll ask you to tell them, can we make a pact like that? I wouldn't force you to, but I would… oh what's that word? Oh yeah, encourage you to. Is that alright?"

He considered that for a few seconds, then looked into her big trusting eyes, and gulped once; he'd no idea why she affected him this way. "Yeah," he whispered, "I can do that. I don't know why, but I trust you, Hermione. I hope you'll trust me too."

"I don't know why either, but I trust you as well, Harry. Let's be good friends and hopefully you can live with us for a while. Would you truly like that?"

"I… I think I really would. I can't go back there, it's not my home any more."

She squeezed his hand again, and kissed his cheek. He blushed, but smiled hugely at her. For the first time he could remember, he felt safe.

In the front seat, the two adults were smiling at each other, but were not about to tell the youngsters they'd heard every word. They just exchanged knowing looks which ranged through serious, pragmatic, amused and hopeful. They'd never before seen their daughter hit it off so well with someone close to her age. She didn't seem to have any close friends, just classmates she occasionally spent time with. Though they didn't say it, both knew the other was thinking it wouldn't be a bad thing if Harry Potter could stay with them somehow. He was a very nice lad, from what they could tell, and obviously in need of a loving stable home. They both decided they'd do all they could to provide that if they could.

* * *

Far away, in Northern Scotland, a little spinning instrument suddenly stopped, spit out a puff of black, greasy smoke, and then quietly melted into a silver puddle. Unfortunately no one noticed, as the occupant of that particular office had left that afternoon on holiday to a hidden Wizarding resort in the Cayman Islands. He would not return for another two weeks. None of the portraits hanging on the walls took any mind of it either, being as they were all involved in a philosophical discussion on the merits of having ghosts in the castle and their effects on the youngsters. It would not be until the live occupant of the office returned that the device in question would be discovered to have failed, along with the charms and enchantments on a certain house. Another device, however, chugged along patiently, emitting a little puff of white smoke about every five minutes. Occasionally it would give out a soft gurgle as if digesting a very nice meal. In fact, the gurgle now sounded a lot like a human chuckle. That was a sound it had rarely made in the nearly six years it had been in use.

A few hours later a large crimson bird with a golden crest and tail feathers, as well as a gold beak and feet, arrived in a flash of fire and settled on a large perch. It looked curiously at the blob that had been the first device and gave out with what was clearly a sardonic laughing trill as it shook its head. It then gazed serenely at the other device, chuckled and crooned at it, then tucked his head under his wing and went to sleep. The device seemed to pause for a moment and consider the large avian, then went back to gurgling happily, emitting another puff of white smoke.

* * *

Meanwhile the Grangers and Harry were motoring toward Kensington, chatting easily. It was less than three quarters of an hour later when they crossed the River Thames, turned off the A3, wound through plush neighbourhoods, and then pulled into the driveway of a tastefully large house in the upmarket area. Harry noticed they had driven by what appeared to be several parks, and was hoping he and Hermione could go explore them sometime. He didn't really know what girls liked to do, never having been around any except at school, and those never came near him thanks to Dudley. So, he reasoned he had a lot to learn.

When Mr Granger stopped the car in the spacious garage, Harry disengaged his hand from Hermione's and hopped out to open the door for Mrs Granger, holding the rear door for his new friend as well. Hermione started to slide across to his door much more slowly than he had moved, but graced him with another of her patented thousand watt smiles. It made his stomach do flip flops for reasons he didn't understand.

When he turned his gaze back to Mrs Granger, she was smiling almost as widely, and said, "Why thank you, Harry, you're quite the gentleman aren't you?"

He bobbed his head and grinned, all the while blushing furiously. "Thank you, Mrs Granger, they taught us things like this at school, and I've never had the chance to practice them very much before."

But, Hermione, still in the car, sounded frantic then as she said, "Mum, there's blood on the seat." She scrambled out of the car and went around behind him, almost wailing, "and… and look at his back, Mum – oh Harry, you're badly hurt."

The woman turned him around, and when he winced she asked in alarm, "Harry, what's wrong, what happened?"

He flinched and tears came to his eyes when she touched his back. Only now did he realize how much his back still hurt, and it felt like his shirt was stuck to him. She pulled up his shirt a little ways until it reached the part where it was stuck, and gasped, as did Hermione.

Mr Granger hurried over asking, "What is it, love?"

She sniffled and said, with tears choking her voice, "Look at this, Alan; my word, Harry, did your uncle do this to you?"

Harry couldn't see what they were looking at, but decided he must have some of the usual bruises, and that some welts from the belt must have bled a little. He was sure that's what Hermione saw on the seat and why his shirt was stuck to him. It had happened before.

He looked at Hermione, who also had tears in her eyes, as she grabbed his hand and held it tightly to her chest with both hers. She seemed to be telling him with her eyes to tell her parents what happened. He sighed deeply, and hung his head.

All the while looking down, he said, "That's why I don't ever want to go back there. I spilled some hot coffee on his lap this morning when my cousin, Dudley, tripped me. He beat me with his belt and threw me in my cupboard, only…"

He was cut off by an angry growl from Mr Granger who rumbled out, "What do you mean cupboard, Harry?"

Harry was a little frightened of the man's anger for a second, until Hermione squeezed his hand once more. He again looked into her eyes for calming strength. It was amazing the effect she had on him, and he marvelled at it for a moment.

Then, hanging his head again in shame and embarrassment, he said, haltingly and in a low dull voice, "That's… that's where I slept, sir, in the cupboard under the stairs… I'm a freak, they said, and… and ab… erm, I think my aunt said, abnorm ill, or something like that… so I was never allowed in the bedrooms… One was theirs, one was for guests, one was Dudley's, and the smallest one was Dudley's second bedroom where he kept all his toys and stuff."

The reaction to what he said scared him again. The colour drained from all three faces, to be replaced on Mr and Mrs Granger by an angry red which came near to matching Uncle Vernon in a mild fit of temper. He backed away a step, moving so as to pull Hermione between himself and her parents. He'd no chance of getting away as she still held his hand and arm tightly to her. When he looked into her eyes he could see reassurance that it would be okay, which was also communicated by the way she hugged his arm.

After a moment, and because of his reaction, the adults calmed as well. Both knelt in front of him to get on his eye level. They looked at him with sorrow in their eyes, and Mr Granger said softly, "I'm sorry we frightened you, Harry. It's just that for anyone to treat a child that way makes us very angry. We are not mad at you, please understand that. We are however very angry with your uncle; and your aunt as well? She was mean I assume, besides calling you abnormal?"

Harry nodded, "Yes… erm, Aunt Petunia… She never hit me, well not as much as Uncle Vernon, but she was… she always, well they both did… they made me do all the chores that… that Dudley never had to do. He never did anything but sit around watching the telly… and shoving food in his mouth… He was a bully too… and he and his friends used to chase me… and… and beat me up if they could catch me. I'm very fast at running though, so they didn't catch me too often… But I always got blamed when they tore my clothes and broke my glasses and stuff… Oh I hope I never have to go back there…" he wailed, "please… please don't send me back," he pleaded, and then sobbed into Hermione's shoulder, "I'm not a freak, I'm not a weirdo, they just hate me."

She laid her head on his and kissed his hair, cooing soft words of comfort. Her heart was nearly breaking with all the pain her new friend was in.

The adults were totally taken aback by his outburst, but waited for him to calm. They both had noticed how it seemed that Hermione could soothe him very quickly, and wondered about it. At the moment though, they were glancing back and forth between the children and each other with looks mixing shock, anger, outrage, and pain for this lovely child, both with tears in their eyes.

After Harry was able to pull himself together, he said to Hermione, "I got your shirt wet, I'm sorry."

She smiled and giggled a little, saying, "Not to worry, it'll dry, Harry." Turning more serious she asked her parents, "Mum, Dad, what do we do now? He needs some medical care; can we just take him to hospital?"

Alan had been thinking that over, as had Maggie, and both started to speak at once. She then said, "Go ahead, dear, I think I know what you are about to say."

He smiled at his wife, but as he looked at Harry, his smile turned grim and he said gently, "Harry, from what I can see, you do in fact need medical care. But also, you are not a freak, or abnormal, or a weirdo, or any of those other things they told you, okay?" The boy nodded, though he didn't look fully convinced. "Good, keep reminding yourself of that. Now, if you don't mind, what we'd like to do is take you to emergency, but first I'd like to ring our solicitor and have him meet us at the hospital. I want you to be able to stay here with us for now, so I need his advice and help with whatever paperwork there might be." He glanced at his wife, who was nodding along with everything he'd said.

Harry thought for a moment, and asked, "Don't solicitors cost money? Can you get one on a Sunday? Nobody works on Sunday, do they?"

Maggie smiled, replying, "Yes, Harry, a few people like doctors and nurses at hospitals work on Sunday. But don't you worry about the expense, this is something we want to do and whatever it costs will be well worth it. Besides, Hermione would never forgive us if we didn't at least try to have you live with us for the time being. I do hope you want to stay here." She looked a bit worried at that.

Harry looked to Hermione again, and her soft brown eyes told him in no uncertain terms that he'd better say he did, as she smiled and nodded her head. He smiled a little back at her, turned to the adults, and replied, "Yes, I think I would like that very much. I… I don't know why… but Hermione and I seem to have a… I don't know what it is…"

Hermione interjected, "I read something in a magazine of Mum's last month about soul mates. If they exist, then I think you and I are that. I've never met anyone who I liked instantly; not the way I took to you. It's what I was talking about in the car – it's as if we've always known each other; as if we needed to find each other to be whole. From what I read, that is the definition of soul mates. Is that how you feel, Harry?"

"Yes… I think it is. Wow, that's brilliant." He smiled broadly at her and was rewarded with another of those dazzling smiles of hers.

Smiling also, Mr Granger said then, "Why don't we all go in the house for a few minutes, so I can call Rafe to see if he'll meet us at the hospital? I sure hope he can." Speaking more to himself than the others, he added, "I think I'll call Tom as well, and see if he's on duty, or will meet us there."

Mrs Granger echoed his sentiment, and the two rose to their feet. As they moved around another nice car and toward a door, Hermione pulled Harry by the arm she was still clutching as if he'd try to run away. They smiled a small smile at each other, and followed her parents into the house.

Everyone used the loo, and when Harry came out Mr Granger was on the phone speaking with someone in a light tone. Then he turned serious, and said, "Rafe, we need your help with something. We picked up a six year old boy on the A3 several miles out of Little Whinging and he's been badly abused." There was a pause while he listened, and he added, "Yes, quite badly. We need to take him to hospital for treatment, but we want him to be able to come back here when they are through with him. I do not want this child falling into the abyss of Child Welfare! Can you help us, and would you be willing to meet us at the hospital to help us get temporary custody or whatever? Perhaps get us set up as his foster parents?"

He listened for a few moments, then replied, "Wonderful, my friend. We'll meet you there." He listened for another moment, and said, "Yes, the emergency clinic near our office is best. I will not subject this wonderful boy," he winked at Harry, who blushed and looked down, but smiled anyway, "to the indignities of the National Health Service if I can avoid it. In fact that clinic is where Tom Graham is these days; I'll make sure he's either working or will come in for us. He owes me a few favours for his accident prone son, who probably should not be allowed to play sport." He laughed, and after a few moments, he said, "Okay, Rafe, meet you there in about thirty minutes."

Hermione came up beside Harry and took hold of his hand and arm again, so he smiled softly at her, and she smiled as well, saying, "I call him Uncle Rafe, even though he's not really related to us. He and Daddy were good friends in university, and still are. He and his family visit often, and we go there just as much. They're really nice people; so's Doctor Graham. He's not our family doctor, because he works at the hospital, but he's Daddy's friend from university, as well. You'll have the very best people that my parents know looking after you."

Harry smiled more broadly at her, hope shining in his eyes for the first time, and said, "Thanks, I think that's brilliant. I hope they really can help."

Mr Granger interrupted, saying, "I'll be back shortly, kids. Can you wait here for us?"

They both agreed to wait right by the garage door for him, and walked slowly toward it as Hermione continued the conversation, "Mum and Dad say Uncle Rafe's a very good solicitor, so he should be able to help. I really hope he can, 'cause I think you are a very special boy and we are meant to be together, to be close friends. Don't you think so too?"

"It's… it still seems odd, Hermione, but yes I do. I can feel something that pulls me to you; kinda weird really, but it feels nice too. It's why I stopped and came back to the car. I wasn't going to, because I was afraid of getting sent back. I'm glad I did. Must be that soul thing you said." He smiled again, and she rewarded him once more with her own brilliant smile.

"Oh Harry, this is so wonderful, and the term is soul mates. I'm going to keep a positive thought that it will go the way we want, can you do that too?"

"Sure, but don't you pray for things like that?"

"Well, I suppose a lot of people would, but my parents don't believe that way. It's kind of hard to explain, but I'll get Mum to tell you later; okay?"

"Sure, that's okay. I just don't know about that whole God thing at all. Aunt Petunia insisted we all go to church at the holidays, but from what I could see, if there was a God, he sure didn't help me."

At his frown, she kissed his cheek again, and smiled warmly when he blushed on cue. "Harry, you belong here now, so let's just leave that stuff in the past as much as we can. I want you to be happy, and my parents want that too."

He smiled again, and said, "Thanks for that. I think I really could be happy here, if they'll let me stay."

"Well, let's keep hoping and have positive thoughts, okay?"

"Yeah, sounds like a good idea, that." He grinned and she grinned back.

The more he was with her the more comfortable he became and the more he liked this strange girl. She often talked like an adult, and yet was very much like the girls at school in many ways. She was very feminine, there was no mistaking she was a girl, but she seemed to be strong in ways he didn't yet understand, and very much wanted to.

They continued talking about various things they liked and didn't, and some of the books each or both had read. They laughed over the silliness of Dr Seuss, but both admired the way the stories were told and agreed they should read them together sometime since they both liked them so much. Even though both could read well beyond that level, they still liked the stories.

Finally, they ran out of things to talk about for a moment. As they stood looking at each other, waiting for her parents, he admired her simple beauty and open, honest face. Somehow he knew that she was like that because of where and how she was being raised. He wondered what it would be like to live in a house where the adults didn't beat him or yell at him, or call him names; where you weren't forced to work like a slave, and could have all the food you wanted. He knew that slaves were treated much like he was, and he hated it. He'd learned about them from something he'd read in the school library, where he often hid from Dudley and friends. That was one of the reasons he'd broken away this morning, didn't look back, and never wanted to.

Mr and Mrs Granger came toward them, just as Hermione asked, "What do you like to do for fun? Do you read, play games, sport, that kind of thing? Oh, silly me, you just said you like to read, but what about…"

Alan announced, "Okay, kids, we're ready to go. Sorry to keep you waiting, but I needed to find some documents Rafe said I may need. I called Tom, who is in fact working today, so he'll be expecting us when we arrive. Then Mum and I were talking for a few moments."

At Harry's questioning look, he asked, "You are very perceptive, aren't you young man?" The boy nodded slightly, but shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, we were talking about you. If we can keep you here we will need to make certain arrangements, so we were talking about that; nothing to worry over or get excited about. Just all that really boring adult stuff that parents have to consider," he chuckled at his own little joke. Alan could tell already that this child was very special, and a slight chill went down his back when the thought came out of nowhere that the boy could change their lives forever.

Harry felt more at ease, now, and was coming to like Mr and Mrs Granger almost as much as he did Hermione. It felt really good to be around them. He wondered over their almost immediate decision to take him in, but reckoned that since they were adults, they had their reasons. It just seemed strange to him that someone would take in a boy like him, a freak who was nothing special, right off the street. He wasn't scared of them at all, and that didn't make sense to him either. Then he reminded himself he was not a freak, and kept telling himself that.

As he followed the family back out to the car, Hermione clinging once more to his hand, he mulled over how odd this _all_ seemed. It was much like when he'd turned his teacher's hair blue last year in school. Or when he was running away from Dudley and his gang and wound up instantly behind some dumpsters, not knowing how he got there.

While they were in the house, Mrs Granger had come back out and cleaned the little bit of blood off the seat, and now put an old towel under and behind Harry as he got back in the car. He tried to apologize for causing her so much trouble, but she waved it off as being of no consequence, smiling and winking at him as if it was their private joke. He really liked her now; she seemed as sweet as Hermione did.

Hermione asked, as they got settled in the car, "Harry, did you hear my question? You got awful quiet there for a minute."

"Oh, sorry… I was just thinking about some things. Er, fun, yeah, I like to read, like we said, but I never got to play games much. Because of Dudley, I always got picked last or not at all for sport at school. He was mean to anyone who tried to be nice to me."

"Oh, Harry," she smiled sadly, squeezing his hand gently, "I'll make sure you learn how to play games and if you get to go to my school, you'll probably be very popular and get picked for all kinds of sport. I think you have an athletic build, you just need to grow a bit."

Her enthusiasm made him smile, and wished it would come true, what she so warmly prophesied. It would be very nice to have real friends. He asked, "Are you really popular at your school?"

"Oh, no, not at all," she said a little sadly, "Most of them only seem to want to play. I prefer to study a lot and be top of my class, so I don't get along with most of them. I have a few sort of friends, but none of them live close by, so it's kind of hard to visit with them. We have fun at school, but that's about it. For some reason, most all the other kids around here are older, but there aren't very many. Most are teens, or in college."

The drive to the hospital didn't take very long and Harry enjoyed chatting with Hermione about lots of different things. Finding out more of what they liked in common, and what they didn't, occupied most of the trip. It turned out their tastes in food and music were very similar, though he had to admit to not knowing anything at all about classical music which his uncle had always labelled as 'nancy boy' music. He'd also never tried some of the dishes she said she liked a lot, but then he'd never been to France, which she had, and many of those dishes were French. On the other hand, they had read many of the same books, even though she was a year ahead of him in school. He was kind of sad that if he did get to go to her school he wouldn't be in the same class as her, but didn't let on about it, or so he thought.

The reason he'd been able to read all those books was that he often got his teachers and the librarian to let him bring them home and he'd sneak them into his cupboard so he had something to do when he was locked in. He'd also sneak books out of Dud's second bedroom when he could, since the fat lump never read them and wouldn't miss them. At least he had a light in the cupboard to read by, otherwise it would have been very boring laying there in the dark. Often, he had to do that anyway when the senior bully ordered him to put out the light before going off to bed himself. Harry would wait a while, then turn the light back on to read until he got sleepy, or someone started down the stairs in the middle of the night. That was usually Uncle Vernon or Dudley, looking for a snack.

Hermione was learning very quickly to read her new friend's body language and moods. When they talked about how she was a year ahead of him in school it bothered him, and she knew it. He didn't mention it, so neither did she, but did keep it in mind. She already knew he was very smart, probably as smart as she was, if not even more so. It seemed he had a sixth sense about some things, like people, which she thought could be very interesting to see in action again. To her, Harry appeared to be an odd mixture of a very good boy and a very troubled one. She wished she knew more about his past, and then realized that she might not want to. If it was as bad as the beating he'd received that morning it might be better not to know all of it, and that made her very sad for him. Events would change her mind only a few minutes later.

Her thoughts were awhirl as they pulled into the car park at the big emergency clinic and hospital near her parents work. Whenever she went with them to their surgery during the week it usually took about an hour to get to this area. Being Sunday though, the traffic had been much lighter and moved along well. Still thinking about the odd mixture that was her new friend's personality, she hopped out her side, and ran around to see if he wanted any help.

As before, he'd gotten out and opened the door for her mum, and held his door expecting her to get out his side. He looked surprised when she bolted up to him, grabbing his arm and hand, this time just holding their hands down tightly between them. There was no choice but to smile when she beamed at him. She took the door out of his hand and closed it, while he closed her mum's, and then they followed the adults inside.

Harry had a death grip on Hermione's hand, he knew, as they entered the emergency clinic. He hoped he wasn't hurting her, but couldn't seem to relax his grip. She didn't say anything, and when he glanced she didn't appear to be in pain, so he just hung on. Mr Granger led them all to the reception desk and spoke softly with the clerk, giving his name and asking for Doctor Thomas Graham, saying that he was expecting them.

The woman replied just as softly that the doctor had informed her to expect them and that she had a room waiting. She led them inside the clinic's treatment areas, past several examining cubicles with curtains, mostly empty, and eventually they reached a large door which she opened and held for them. What they found inside was a large room with the usual examining table as well as a few chairs and one large sofa. It was like it was a meeting room and a treatment room all in one. Harry thought that rather odd, but didn't comment.

Hermione pulled him to the sofa where they sat closely together. But he was fidgeting some, having very bad memories of emergency clinics, or at least what happened after the visits. The reasons for his previous visits usually had to do with Dudley and his gang of thugs, which the pig flatly denied and was always believed, of course. But even though Harry was berated and often denied food for days after, he always knew the truth and so did Dudley. That was something Harry never let his cousin forget.

Soon after the four of them took seats, they were joined by a tall, thin man with slightly balding hair, stylish glasses, and dressed in tennis garb. He had a slim attaché case which he put down to greet everyone, and was then introduced to Harry as Rafe Terwilliger, the solicitor. The man gently shook Harry's hand, and sat down in the chair next to Hermione, since Harry was between her and Mrs Granger on the sofa, and Mr Granger in a chair alongside his wife.

"Harry," Rafe began, "I'm going to need to ask you a lot of questions, and some of them will be rather personal, but I need to know these things if I am to help you. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, sir, I think I know what you want."

"Good, Harry, now do you want Hermione here with you?" Looking at her, he asked, "And do you want to stay, love?" He patted her free hand.

Harry immediately replied, "I want her to stay… er, if you want to, Hermione…"

"Of course I want to stay. You need my help, and I… well I want to know what you went through… I didn't really, before, but now I think I need to know, so I can help you later. Is that okay, Harry?"

He smiled softly at her, "Yes, I want you to stay, but only if you want to."

The man smiled, warmly. "Harry, Hermione, you seem to be permanently attached," he nodded at their tightly clasped hands, "and that's a good thing, so I wouldn't dream of separating you. Alan and Maggie need to be here anyway, so no worries." He turned his attention to Hermione and asked, "Are you sure you want to hear this, love? If what I understand of the situation is true, it won't be pretty."

She sat up straighter and replied, "I know it won't, Uncle Rafe. I have a good idea what Harry is going to say, from what he told us in the car, and at the house. I can handle it," she said proudly, but then turned to Harry. "Will it bother you if I cry about some of it, Harry? I know you have been through some awful things, and it might make me cry, but I want to know, and I want to be here with you; alright?"

He looked at her warm brown eyes, which pleaded with him to understand. He could not say no to her. "It's okay, Hermione. I'd never want to make you cry, but I know you probably will this time. I just really, really hope it's the last time I ever make you cry. You're too pretty to have tears on your face." He clamped his mouth shut after saying that last, and blushed heartily. His face felt like it was on fire as he looked down at the floor.

Hermione's face pinked a bit also, but she squeezed his hand, and when he looked up rewarded him with another of her huge smiles. He turned to look at her parents who were beaming almost as much as she was.

Mr Granger reached over and touched his knee, saying, "Harry, if Hermione wants to be here and you want her here, then she will be. It's very likely her mum will cry too, but don't let that influence you; don't let it make you hold back anything you need to say. If Hermione can't take it at some point, one of us can take her outside."

Harry looked at Mrs Granger then, and she nodded, adding, "Love, you need to tell Rafe and Doctor Tom everything you can remember of how they treated you. I know it will be hard, but it has to be as complete as you can make it. It's the only way we can legally get you away from the animals that did this to you. I would not willingly subject Hermione to the ugliness I know we shall hear, but if she wants to, then I suppose it is best if she knows."

Mr Granger nodded his agreement to his wife's statements.

"Okay," Harry said, speaking slowly while thinking it through, "I guess that's okay." He turned to Hermione then, and said, "I really like you a lot already, but I don't ever want to hurt you. You're the first friend my own age I've ever had. If you feel like you've got to leave, please do that. On that con… contid… er…"

She asked, "Condition? Is that what you wanted to say?"

"Yes, on that condition, you can be here, 'cause I really want you to hold my hand. I know it's probably silly, but you were right, it helps me stay calm for some reason. Okay? Is that a deal?"

"Deal," she said smartly and with a smile. "Thank you, Harry, I really like you too, that's why I want to stay."

He blushed again, not sure why this time, but squeezed her hand a bit. Only now did he notice he had relaxed a lot from when they came in. He looked at the solicitor and said, "Looks like we've got that sorted then, sir."

The man laughed, as did Mr and Mrs Granger. "Harry," he said, "I can already tell I am going to very much enjoy getting to know you, despite the circumstances. You're a very bright young man, and witty as well. I like that; makes you a bit of a scrapper, unless I miss my guess."

Harry just smiled and blushed again. He was not used to compliments, and to have so many in one day was quite disorienting for him. Being rather pragmatic, and generally pessimistic about his life, he wondered when the other shoe would drop and he'd either wake up in his cupboard or be shipped back. He prayed silently, to whatever god or gods were out there, to let him stay with the Grangers, promising he'd do whatever was demanded of him in payment. He never forgot that moment, so several years later when he recalled that six-year-old's prayer he wondered at the sanity and/or warped sense of humour of those gods.

Mr Terwilliger then asked, "Did you reach Tom then, Alan?"

"We only arrived a few moments before you, and had just got settled, but, yes, Tom's on duty and should be along momentarily I expect. The receptionist said she'd let him know we're waiting."

"Good job, that; I'm glad he was on duty." He smiled at Harry, who smiled shyly back.

At that the man turned his attention fully to the adults and started getting their take on what had occurred so far that afternoon. Harry decided he was starting to like the easy going solicitor. He had an honest face and a friendly manner, which was hard not to like. But he felt there was more to it, could tell from his inner sense that this was a good man, someone who would stand up for him, just as he was sure the Grangers would. What made no sense to Harry was that he often got similar feelings from people at first, but often as not they would change and become just neutral feeling to him. They were neither good nor bad, just didn't seem to care about him any more. He sure hoped the same didn't happen to the wonderful people he'd met today; it would shatter his world if it did.

While he'd been ruminating, the adults had talked of what Mr and Mrs Granger knew so far and what they hoped to accomplish. Mr Terwilliger was sat next to Mr Granger now, so Harry was looking at the floor while thinking. He felt Hermione squeeze his hand in what he already recognized as a silent question, so he looked up to smile a little at her.

"What were you thinking about, Harry?" she asked in a very low voice, "I lost you for a moment there."

"Oh, I don't know…" he answered, also softly, "just stuff; like how much I hope things can keep going like they are; that nobody changes so you and your parents don't care if I'm around any more. It's happened with my teachers and some other people. It's like… someone made them not care about me at all… it's really quite odd. Makes it hard for me to trust that things'll get better."

"Harry, I vow to you, I will always be your friend, and my parents and I will always care about you."

Harry scuffed a foot on the carpet covering the floor in this part of the room at the very moment she finished saying that, and a small shock went through their clasped hands. But neither of them let go, just looked down at their hands in surprise.

He looked at her and giggled, "Sorry, I shouldn't have rubbed my foot on the carpet like that, I guess."

She got an odd look in her eyes then, and was silent for a moment. She looked up from their hands and smiled, "That's okay, Harry. Strange things like that happen all the time around me. One time I got scared because I thought a car was going to hit me, and next thing I knew I was all the way across the street and in our yard. I probably shouldn't tell you that, but you might see some funny things around me from time to time. So it's better if you know, probably."

He smiled, turned thoughtful for a moment, then smiled again even wider, "The same kind of thing happened to me a couple months ago. Dudders and his gang were chasing me and I ducked around a corner at school and wanted to hide from them, next thing I knew I was behind a bunch of dustbins and didn't know how I got there."

"Wow," she said, a little louder than before, then quieted as she continued. "Have other things happened like that? I've had a whole bunch of things happen that were really strange like that."

"Yeah, me too. My aunt got tired of my hair being all wild a few weeks ago, and cut it all off with the kitchen shears. It looked horrible, but when I got up the next morning it was right back to normal. I don't know what happened, but I was shut in my cupboard for almost two weeks and they hardly… Sorry, I better save that for later."

"It's okay, Harry, I think I know. They didn't feed you very much did they?"

He shook his head, flushing some, still embarrassed by the treatment he'd received at their hands and how it always made him feel so awful, so powerless. Unexpectedly, she pulled her hand loose, and as he looked up she threw her arms around him and hugged him very tightly. He didn't know what to do at first, but finally decided he liked this and hugged her back. It was the first hug he could ever remember getting, and he savoured the few moments it lasted, even though her arms were causing him some pain where they rested across his shoulders.

When she pulled away, she had tears on her lashes and seemed to angrily wipe them off. Then she took both his hands in hers and said, "Harry, no matter what, you have to tell all this. You just have to, or they could send you back. I know it's going to be hard for you to tell, and almost as hard for me to hear. I need you to do this, and you need to do it for yourself. I can't lose you…" She choked on her words as she trailed off, and more tears formed on her lashes which she tried to blink away.

He pulled her back in for another hug, saying, "I will, Hermione. I don't want to lose you, either. I know it's weird, but I just have to be able to stay with you. I just have to." His voice got thick and his eyes stung too, but he swallowed hard and went on. "I will, I promise. I'll tell them everything I can remember, so we can stay together. I don't know why it's important, but it just is."

Hermione pulled away from Harry then, and looked deeply into his eyes seeing the trust he held for her, the anger at, and the fear of telling on, the family he'd been with. And there was something else, something that felt very nice to her. It would be a few years before either of them figured out what that was. She would find out that he saw the same thing in her eyes all the time when she looked at him; and only when she looked at him. And, she would know that look was only in his eyes for her as well. But that was in the future, so for now she just held his hands and they stared contentedly at each other for a few minutes, slight smiles on both their faces.

* * *

Dr Thomas Graham was enjoying the rare quiet Sunday in the Emergency Clinic just off Harley Street, and was all but caught up on his paperwork for the shift. Not to mention having made a serious dent in the interminable pile of it the hospital administration seemed to heap on all the doctors, especially ones in supervisory roles. As Senior Emergency Resident he, unfortunately, fell into that category.

When the office phone rang, it startled him since it had been quiet for so long. Answering, his favourite clerk in the whole hospital, Ruth, told him he had a call from a Mr Alan Granger. After thanking her, he worried as to why his friend would ring him up at work on a Sunday evening, and feared something had happened to one of his friend's family. He answered the call by clicking the button, and when he put the phone down a couple of minutes later his hand trembled slightly. He loved treating kids, but he hated treating abused kids. During his tenure with the National Health Service he'd had to treat numerous abused children, and it had always made him want to go and vomit whatever he'd eaten that day, and for the past several days in the boot.

He notified Ruth of the situation, and went back to his paperwork, reading and signing off on several more of the inane hospital directives and informational requests while waiting for the Grangers to arrive. When Ruth rang to announce their arrival, he finished the form he was almost done with and got up to walk the short way to exam room four. He was not looking forward to this, but was glad of who had brought the boy, knowing how marvellous they were as parents. As far as he was concerned, it boded very well for the child that their mutual friend Rafe would be joining them. Not knowing what all the Grangers had in mind, he wasn't sure why the solicitor was coming, but was happy to have his advice. If anyone could navigate the quagmires that were the NHS and the various Children's Protective Services, it was their favourite solicitor.

Ruth cut him off half way there, asking "Doctor, do you need insurance and admittance forms?" She already knew this was one of _those_ situations, so hadn't questioned him too closely on it before.

"I'll probably need a full packet, yes, Ruth. Would you bring it back when you have it? Also would you ask Madeline to join us as soon as she's free?"

"Certainly, Doctor, I believe she's free now, and I'll have the packet in just a few moments for you."

"Very good." He smiled at his friend of many years.

She'd been here when he was doing his intern rotations; had been then, and was still, the best clerk in the hospital. He was glad to have her on his staff, as she saved him many hours each week with her abilities to keep the clinic organized and running smoothly even when it got overloaded. She always insisted on calling him 'Doctor' though, despite his insistence otherwise. The woman was easily old enough to be his mother, but refused to use his first name, claiming it just was not seemly in the hospital.

He plastered on a small smile, as he always did for patients, just as he reached the door.

This was the most private room in the clinic, called the family room, and most often used for examining patients with 'unusual' conditions or those involving legal situations like rape and assault – or child abuse. Opening the door, he was somewhat surprised to see Rafe was already in attendance and was very glad to see the man, especially given the circumstances. As he approached the group his smile broadened at his old friends, though it dimmed a bit when his eyes took in the young boy who seemed to be clinging for dear life to Hermione's hand, or vice versa. He decided it looked like it was mutual, and his smile softened at the two youngsters.

Turning his attention back to the adults, he held out his hand to Alan as the three rose from the sofa and chairs. "Good to see you, Alan, not the best circumstances for a visit, but I'm glad it is you who brought the lad."

He could see the uncertainty and hope in the man's eyes, and some compassionate pain as well. He'd known his friend for a very long time and could not recall ever seeing that mixture in the eyes, and on the face, of the usually self-assured dentist.

"Good to see you as well, Tom – no, not the best of circumstances, but good all the same. I'm pleased, though, that you were on duty and I didn't have to call you from home. There is no one else I'd trust as much in these circumstances." There was an unwritten code between the friends, including the wives, that if one needed any or all of the others they would come if at all possible.

Tom smiled grimly, "Understood, my friend. Maggie, dear how have you been? Lovely as ever, I see. Can't believe I let this rascal get you before I did," he winked at her and smiled more fully.

She smiled back at the very old joke, saying, "And look at you, just as handsome as ever. If you ever lose that beautiful creature you're married to, let me know and we shall see what happens." The four adults all laughed, since this had been the standard greeting between the two for over a decade.

Turning to Rafe he said, "And last but not least, the Crown's least favourite solicitor, when do you become Barrister Terwilliger, Rafe?"

Rafe laughed, as did the others, "Probably right about the time you become chief of staff of this fine facility, Tom."

Tom winced, that was one position he had no intention of pursuing and Rafe knew it; which of course meant the solicitor, well known for rocking the boat, was not likely to advance in his career to the highest levels.

"Who'd you get on the wrong side of this time, Rafe?"

"Nothing too big, Tom, just got my client found innocent of one of those ridiculous new gun laws, the one about toy guns. He had some left over from his own childhood and we explained to the jury that just because his children found and played with them in public didn't make him a terrorist. They agreed, thank goodness."

"Good job, that, Rafe, much as I hate treating gunshot wounds, Parliament has gone entirely too far with this and it is time someone stood up for those wrongly accused."

Harry was fascinated with the banter and talk of the adults. He'd never heard people go on like this to one another before, Even though he didn't understand all of what was being said, he knew they were close friends. He also knew that if the Grangers trusted these men, then he could too. So far he liked them both a lot, even though he'd yet to actually meet the latest arrival.

The doctor turned then to Hermione, who smiled and stood, pulling Harry to his feet with her. She still had a firm grip on his hand, like she was afraid he'd try to run off. He smiled at her and at the doctor.

"Hermione, love, you get prettier and taller every time I see you," the doctor smiled broadly at her. "When are you going to be old enough to run off with me, dearie?"

She laughed lightly, as did all the adults. "Oh, Uncle Tom, I keep telling you you're too old for me. Besides, I think I'd rather run off with my new friend here. I'd like you to meet Harry Potter. Harry," she smiled at him, "this rogue is our favourite physician, Doctor Tom Graham."

She forcefully removed her left hand from Harry's right so he could shake the doctor's hand, and he smiled tightly at her for a moment as he took the man's hand briefly. Not meeting the doctor's eyes at first, he inspected the man's crisp white lab coat. Only then did he look up into the smiling, concerned eyes of the doctor. Not knowing at all why, as he and Dr. Tom exchanged greetings, he got the impression this was another man he could trust completely. He decided to reserve judgement on that for the time being, but he had promised Hermione, and, while it didn't make it any easier, it helped knowing what he had to do.

Tom watched the reactions of the underweight, ill-dressed boy as they greeted one another and wasn't at all surprised when the lad didn't meet his eyes for several seconds. That was normal in abused children, though he was a bit surprised when he saw a look of resolve come over the boy's features. Oddly, to Tom, there was an unexpected firmness in his grip for such a small child. But his trained eyes saw a lot more. There were definite signs of malnutrition, and the lad was quite small for his age. The haunted look in his eyes told Tom the boy really did not want to talk about this, which was normal abused child behaviour. But, the now determined set of his jaw said the lad would do otherwise. And that was a surprise.

Turning back to the adults, but staying close to Harry he asked, "Do we want to ask Harry here," he glanced a small smile down at the lad, "to tell us what happened while I make my examination, or should we wait until we've finished treating him?"

Alan replied, "Why don't you get on with your examination and treatment while we tell you what we know so far, Tom." He looked at Rafe who nodded in agreement.

Tom turned back to Harry and asked, "That cool with you, Harry?"

The boy replied, "Y… yes sir, that would be fine with me. But can Hermione stay with me while you do whatever you have to do?"

Tom was taken aback at the request, looked for a moment at a very determined looking young lady, and finally looked up at her parents who both shrugged, indicating it was more or less their daughter's decision.

His gaze returning to his 'niece' he asked, "Are you sure, love, this is likely going to be rather painful for Harry and rather ugly from what your dad told me on the phone."

She glanced at Harry, and her jaw also firmed in resolve as she replied, "Yes, Uncle Tom, I want to be with Harry while all of this goes on. It seems to help him a lot having me with him, helps him to stay calm if I hold his hand."

Tom was a tad flummoxed as he turned back to Alan and Maggie, his eyebrows raised in the obvious question.

Again Alan shrugged, saying, "We talked about this earlier, Tom, and she decided she wants to be with Harry as much as she can. She promised both him and us that if it got to be too much for her, she'd let one of us take her outside."

Tom looked back at the two youngsters and thought that over for a moment. They were holding hands tightly again, their fingers interlaced, and their bodies pulled together in mutual support, though he suspected his favourite young girl was lending most of that to her new friend.

"Ok, Hermione, I can see your mind is made up." He shook his head a moment, adding, "I think you come by your courage and stubbornness quite naturally seeing as how your parents are two of the most stubborn people I know," he smirked at the adults. "Not to mention your Uncle Rafe…" he added, not to leave out anyone in his cheekiness.

All three adults coughed and said more or less at the same time, "Not to mention her Uncle Tom as well…" which got all four of them chuckling.

He turned back to the children again, and addressed Hermione, "Ok, love, you get your way on this one, but I want your solemn promise to leave if it gets to be too much for you."

"Yes, Uncle Tom, I promise."

"Ok, love, I have to warn you both that this may be very painful for you, Harry, are you sure you're okay with having your new friend here during treatment?"

"Yes sir," Harry replied, as he glanced at Hermione, and despite that they were already clinging tightly to each others' hand shared a momentary hand squeeze of agreement. "I very much want her with me if she can handle it. None of us knows why, but… well, we seem to have gotten to be really good friends already. And we've only known each other a couple hours… and like she said, sir, she helps me stay calm."

They were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. When it opened a moment later, Ruth handed him a file full of paperwork, which he grimaced at as she smirked at him. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the kindly clerk, who doubled as a drill sergeant during the busiest times.

She said, "Madeline will be in after a moment, she's just finishing up with Dr Farnsworth's patient."

He nodded and thanked Ruth, giving the paperwork folder one more 'look'. "Okay," he told the rest, "maybe we should get some of the preliminaries out of the way first."

He gently took Harry's free hand, led him over to the treatment area. He weighed and measured the child first, and then carefully assisted him in climbing up to sit on the exam table. Grabbing the file, he opened it and pulled up an exam stool and a rolling instrument tray to start on the paperwork.

Harry answered the questions as best he could, giving his full name, birth date, and all that. He didn't know for sure where he was born, he told Dr. Tom, who looked at him slightly askance on that one. Harry shrugged his shoulders, though he winced when he did as his shirt pulled on where it was stuck to him.

"Sorry, Dr Tom, but I don't think my… relatives ever told me where. I guess they had to put it down on other stuff, but I don't know."

Tom laid a hand on Harry's knee and said, "Not to worry, son, I'm sure we can get it from the National Health Service database.

Tom went on, then, filling out the paperwork until Madeline came in a few moments later. The nurse took over the paperwork and Tom began assessing Harry's condition. He did not at all like what he saw.

::TBC::

**A/N:** More to come soon, even though it has been a good long while since I first posted this. There are several other stories I'm working on, but this is one will now be getting the attention it deserves. For any who might be rereading this, I hope you enjoyed the tweaking I did to smooth out the chapter. Thanks to my Brit picker/beta Tommy, and Ken who helped beta this, and to my other great beta, Mike, for making this so much better. Kevin Costner fans may notice a nod to the movie Field of Dreams in the name of Dr. Graham. I learned recently that dentists in England, not sure about the rest of GB, are called Mr, Mrs, Ms, etc instead of doctor. as they are here in the states. That is why I did not use Dr in reference to them in this piece. Edited 1/29/09


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